


Pathfinder

by KensingtonBlock



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon Compliant, Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:55:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25895545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KensingtonBlock/pseuds/KensingtonBlock
Summary: Always in motion is the future. Not every member of the Jedi Order shall go down in history as a legendary Knights and Masters. Following the adventures of a young Nautolan Padawan after failing her Trials of Knighthood, set in the waning years of the Republic, on the brink of the Clone Wars. Canon and Legends Characters appear in the cast.





	Pathfinder

**CHAPTER 1**

Sound started to come back at first. Faintly, just at the edge of hearing. Someone furiously typing away… The whirring of a droid's treads… Rhythmic beeps of a machine...

And a grunt.

"...not yet," someone said.

And nothing came back once again, as if someone pulled a hood over her head.

* * *

The air was cool, dry and had a slightly acrid tinge. The Force felt distant. Was this a ship in hyperspace? She couldn't remember. The oncoming headache commandeered her attention.

"...are my eyes... open?" she asked. She almost didn't recognize her own voice. "It's dark… Can't see…" Her mind was shattered, unable to comprehend the lack of light. "Is there a... bandage?"

"Ashkhen, focus on your breathing," Master Balian's familiar voice felt like an encouraging squeeze on a shoulder. She could feel her Master's attempt through their training bond to help her recenter and ground her feelings, but it was too late. She couldn't make any sense of the memory flashes that were flooding her mind. Panic rose and clutched at her heart.

"Are my eyes... _kriffing_ open?" Her voice was shaking now, volume rising. "I can't see _anything!_ " With a sudden effort, she raised her hands to her head, trying to feel for the bandage. Still unable to fully control the movement, she jabbed herself hard right in the eye with the fingers on her right hand.

There was no trace of a bandage. The eye was open. There wasn't a left hand. Hysteria exploded.

The next instant Master Balian's palms pressed down hard on her forehead and chest, keeping her from bolting up on sheer adrenaline.

"The Force is with you, Padawan," Master Balian said. "And I'm here too."

The Jedi Master's soothing mind control wrapped around her terror, subduing her mind and stifling her screams. She fell unconscious long before the medical droid showed up with the next round of sedatives.

* * *

The third time she came to, she found her immediate surroundings to be very different. Registering once more that she still couldn't see was a little less derailing than it was the first time, although she found it highly inconvenient that now she had to completely rely on her other senses. Bubbles swirled against her skin. The sickly sweet scent of the dense liquid churning around her filled her nose even through the breathing mask.

_Bacta, huhh,_ she thought. _It's really that bad, isn't it?_

Being suspended in bacta while awake was getting nauseating, she wished to be removed from the tank. She tried edging closer to the glass panel of the tank to signal someone on the outside, but her first attempt at gathering momentum was alarmingly off-kilter. Nautolans _knew_ how to swim and the bacta wasn't so much more dense than water so that it would make any difference. Something was decidedly amiss. Fighting the slowly returning feeling of dread, she took a deep breath and reached out into the Force. She could only feel it faintly, just out of her reach. _There is no emotion, there is peace._ She tried kicking downwards to propel herself up. Her legs felt weak and couldn't sustain the exertion, but she found the results otherwise satisfactory. _There is no emotion…_ To her dismay, the attempt to clasp her hands in front of her torso yielded nothing. _There is no emotion…_ She felt around with her right hand and found her left elbow at last. The forearm was missing. She exhaled sharply. _There goes my last two years of Jar'Kai…_ Taking inventory of her injuries left her with a gradually increasing level of tension. Taking another deep breath, she slowly raised her right hand to her head. Despair broke through her resolve. The bacta graciously masked her tears when she broke down crying at last.

Almost all of her head-tails were gone.

* * *

"That bandana really ill becomes you, Padawan," Master Balian's voice carried an almost undetectable undertone of reproach. "You remind me of an initiate attending saber practice with a blindfold on."

"We should really just call it a _fold_ at this point, shouldn't we? Since I've already got the blind part down."

"Ashkhen!"

Master Balian's disapproval was clear this time. Losing her head-tresses made it noticeably more difficult to read the emotions of people surrounding her, and not being able to _see_ her Master's expression made it even worse.

"I'm sorry, Master," she said quietly. "I really shouldn't be taking it out on you. I'm just… This is _hard._ "

"While you're right to feel temporarily discouraged, you should never give in to despair," Master Balian said. "True, these… _developments_ are less than ideal. But remember, Padawan, focus determines reality. Let the Force guide you, and do not dwell on what you've lost, but what you might learn from it."

"I know, but there's just… too much loss competing for my focus right now, and the Force is doing jack all to help me sort out my… _predicament_ ," came Ashkhen's retort. It has been four days since she'd been released from the bacta tank and deemed stable enough for spacefaring, and she was getting progressively snappish. She spent most of her waking hours holed up in the medbay aboard the _Steadfast_ , neither being interested in meeting the rest of the crew nor being able to navigate the ship without her sight. Wrapping a piece of cloth around her head to cover her unseeing eyes made it somewhat easier to get used to her blindness. This new, lightless world did require some accommodation, and it was far from smooth. She fled the medbay one night during a panic attack. She made it a few meters down the corridor outside the entrance before dizziness and exhaustion took over. Unable to find anything to grasp onto on the seamless durasteel wall panel, she slowly sank to the floor as her legs gave out. Master Balian carried her back in his arms like an infant. She'd spent the following day devastated and silent.

"I'll attribute your lack of decorum to your temporarily overwhelming sense of loss," Master Balian said. His Padawan's recent tartness wasn't surprising him, though he did find it vexing. Whatever emotional turmoil was brewing underneath the surface, they had better work it out before they would arrive back at Coruscant. "Though I must remind you that you're teetering dangerously close to what some might define as _throwing a tantrum_."

Ashkhen swallowed back her first indignant reply, and said instead, "I'm very unwell. Not just physically, though that's definitely something I'll have to come around. I feel… mentally crippled. I've been trying to meditate on these recent events, I just… the Force feels somehow different. It's almost like it's out of reach."

"Then let us try and meditate together, like old times. I shall aid you in finding some of the answers you seek." Master Balian's robe rustled lightly as he knelt to the ground to ease into the familiar meditating position. He gently reached out through their training bond, more of a friendly invitation than a request, and Ashkhen found herself sitting up cross-legged on the bed almost immediately. Years of training and habit had an undeniable power over sour mood.

"Let's start from the smaller issues and work our way to the core," Master Balian said. "What is it that bothers you most?"

Ashkhen took a deep, centering breath. "That I've lost my sight, my arm and my head-tails. I have no idea what's the Temple's policy on disabled Jedi."

"Let's wait with the final diagnosis on the extent of your injuries until the Healers have seen you," the Jedi Master said. "I'm not entirely familiar with the full extent of the Nautolans' regenerative capabilities, though it is said to be vastly more impressive than mammals."

"What about my connection to the Force?" continued Ashkhen. "It feels much more... distant. It's there, but I can't feel it as I used to. Almost as if I've… lost part of my Force sensitivity."

"You've been gravely injured and severely poisoned. It's going to take a while to rid yourself of it," Master Balian said. "It's entirely normal to not be able to connect to the Force after spending so much time in critical condition. Healing takes time and commitment."

"But what if it never comes back?"

"I honestly don't expect that. As soon as you get a little better, we can continue to meditate together to help you reconnect to the Force," Master Balian assured his Padawan. "Take another deep breath, Ashkhen," he continued. "What else is there that blocks your healing?"

"I've… failed my Trials." Ashkhen's voice was almost inaudible. "I'm disappointed, ashamed and I have no idea what happens now," she continued, hanging her head. "I'm going to be dumped on some AgriCorps team, aren't I?

"You're not the first Padawan to have failed their Trials of Knighthood," the Devaronian Master said. "And definitely not the last. What happens next is we make our way back to Coruscant, report to the Council as soon as you're well enough, and wait for further instructions."

"But…"

"The fact that you didn't pass your Trials doesn't necessarily mean that you're not fit to be a Jedi Knight," Master Balian said, voice carrying a solemn tone. "It only means that you're not ready for Knighthood at this point. I'm still your Master, you're still my Padawan, and we shall use this opportunity to learn from our mistakes, continue with your training and see whether you'll be ready for the Trials again."

"I'm… not sure that I'll ever be able to face these challenges again," Ashkhen said. "I'm literally half the Jedi I was before this mission, I've lost my lightsaber and my… I don't know… perspective?" An abrupt thought stopped her, diverting her meditation. "Master, I've never asked… what happened to Khosrovi?"

Although it wasn't customary, in some instances the Council decided to let two or more Padawans face the Trials simultaneously. Khosrovi was a Chagrian Padawan, a few years older than Ashkhen, and though they weren't really close friends, they got along pretty well. Both Padawans being aquatic species, the Council mandated them to travel to Manaan on a mission to establish contact with the secluded group of Force sensitive Selkath, the Order of Shasa. It was supposed to be a diplomatic mission. It turned into a disaster.

"She's... one with the Force now, "Master Balian answered quietly. "I'm very sorry."

Ashkhen felt as if she'd fallen through an icy waterfall into space. A heavy emptiness settled in her heart. She was devastated.

"What… happened to her?" she asked, swallowing hard to fight back the feelings of shame and regret welling up.

"When Master Rekeesh and I received your distress signal, we immediately prepared for an extraction. After landing at the remnants of Ahto City, we took a submersible to your last known coordinates in the Hrakert Rift. We saw the aftermath of that battle. This mission… shouldn't have been assigned to Padawans," Master Balian said. "We soon made contact with the resistance group who retrieved you from the battlefield. I almost couldn't believe you were still alive. Khosrovi's body… was nowhere to be found."

Silence hung in the medbay, Ashkhen was lost for words, drowning in guilt.

"Master Rekeesh was downcast with grief that without a body, there wouldn't be a proper Jedi funeral for her Padawan. We made a jump to Zeltros, the closest planet with sufficient medical facilities. Master Rekeesh left immediately for Coruscant, we stayed for a little over a week while you were in a bacta tank. The _Steadfast_ altered its course to pick us up as soon as you were stable enough to travel." Master Balian was lost in thought for a while. Seeing his Padawan in the state the Selkath had presented her, savagely mauled, unconscious, hanging on a thread between life and death was not an experience many masters are ready to face. He couldn't imagine what Master Rekeesh must have felt for losing her Padawan.

"Zeltros is a marvellous tropical paradise," he continued in a lighter tone. "Endless white sandy beaches, beautiful groves, everything bustling with the Living Force. Maybe we should take a vacation there someday, when you're… awake too."

"I'm not sure the Council's standard procedure for failed Padawans is to send them sunbathing on a beach," Ashkhen replied. "Master, all of this is my fault. I should've sensed the treachery while we were negotiating. I should've sensed that there was a faction of Dark Siders among the Order members. It was elusive, but it was there. Khosrovi felt it too."

Suppressed fragments of memories and feelings were cascading forth now. Master Balian said nothing, just listened to his Padawan intently.

"When we arrived at the Hrakert Station and made contact with the Order of Shasa, we both felt a disturbance in the Force. The members of the Order were reluctant to hear us out at first, being extremely vary of offworlders," Ashken said, trying to make sense of her shattered memories. "We just assumed that those faint ripples of darkness came from the ancient deep sea creatures."

"What happened next?" Master Balian asked, gently deepening the meditation.

"There was a… conflict of ideas between the leaders. Some of them wanted to establish contact with the outside world to learn more about the Force through us. They would have welcomed the Jedi to teach them the ways of the Force," Ashkhen said. "But some of them were almost hostile towards us, blaming the fall of the Selkath civilization on offworlders and warning the rest of the order against us, against the assumed threat we posed."

She was lost in her thoughts for a while.

"I think we'd been at Hrakert Station for a few days when the rift between the two opposing factions culminated in an open conflict."

Master Balian said nothing, just listened attentively. Some details of the mission were unknown to him too, since the Selkath were very austere when they presented his unconscious Padawan to him. They weren't hiding their displeasure over _even_ _more_ Jedi showing up.

"Khosrovi and I… we talked about this at length, whether we should abort the diplomatic mission or try and resolve the strife between the opposing sides," Ashkhen continued after a while. "She rather would have offered the Selkath that we'd leave with the promise of not seeking contact again… and I… I thought it'd be better to solve the conflict the Jedi way, through negotiations. I… failed to realize our presence just how gravely unsettled the order, and trying to play at Jedi mediators wouldn't help in mitigating the situation."

She fell silent again. Master Balian waited patiently, afraid to rush his Padawan and ruin the process of unburdening herself of the guilt she'd carried since the mission ended.

"The Dark Siders ambushed us. They outnumbered us. That's when we initiated the distress signal for extraction. The battle between the two sides erupted, and we were caught in the middle," Ashkhen said after a while. "We didn't know that the Fira swords they brandished were made of cortosis, able to withstand and parry lightsabers."

She was trying to sink deeper into her memories, but she couldn't string the broken pieces together anymore.

"I think… I remember getting separated from Khosrovi…" Ashkhen was straining now to make sense of the shards of scenes that flashed before her. "And that's when the Dark Siders unleashed the Firaxan sharks upon us. They were using some sort of Force control over the animals… I… can't recall what happened next," her voice trailed off.

Master Balian gently ended their joint meditation. They stayed silent for a while.

"Did you find some answers by meditating on these questions?" he asked.

"Some things start to make sense now," Ashkhen replied. "I think I can pinpoint where the mission went south. I'm just not sure what to do with this knowledge. It's not like we can go back and start all over."

"Not with this mission, certainly not," Master Balian said. "But there are many other things we can, or rather, have to start from the beginnings," he stood up. "Let's try again and see whether you're ready for a walk."

"We've got about two days before we arrive at Coruscant, right?" she asked. "I'd better be able to walk again by then, I'm _not_ going to disembark in a hoverchair."

* * *

Two days worth of practicing in the ambient, confined space of the medbay definitely did not prepare Ashkhen for the tumultuous bustling of the Coruscant Spaceport. The _Steadfast_ was a passenger liner for Republic envoys, so she had her own restricted docking bay, but the Jedi still had to make their way across the main hall through scores of beings from all over the galaxy rushing and roaming all over the place.

Ashkhen desperately missed her sight. The cacophony of alien languages and the jangle of passengers in transit was soon overwhelming, bordering on hurting her ears. Master Balian's presence in the Force was her beacon, she tried hard to cling to the Jedi Master's signature, but concentrating on following her Master made her less aware of her immediate surroundings, and she kept bumping into strangers. She didn't need a protocol droid to understand the gist of what these travelers were saying to her.

"Master, please wait…" she pleaded at last. "I can't focus on both you and everyone else in this station simultaneously. If I keep this up, someone's going to punch me assuming I'm bodychecking them on purpose."

A familiar hand landed gently on her shoulder.

"And here I thought I had you practice enough throughout the years with the blindfold on," Master Balian said. "But in all fairness, most of those exercises focused on lightsaber training, and with a lot less bystanders ambling about. Let us hail an air taxi and make our way back to the Temple."

To Ashkhen's relief, Master Balian didn't let go of her shoulder, he gently guided his blind Padawan to the upper level air taxi station.

When they settled in the passenger compartment of the airspeeder, Ashkhen instinctively turned to the viewport, only to be crushed once more by the realization that she wouldn't see the skyline of the capital.

"Master, is it day or night?"

"It's past sunset," Master Balian said. "Fortunately, we'll arrive at the Temple late enough to skip the Council report for today and go straight to the Halls of Healing."

Ashken was twiddling the frayed edge of her sleeve, uncharacteristically subdued and nervous. She was wearing Master Balian's robe now, hers being long lost somewhere on Manaan. She desperately wanted a hood to cover her head to avoid the stares of the other passengers because she couldn't even imagine what would a Nautolan look like without their signature head-tails. The closer they were getting to the Temple the more her anxiety intensified. It didn't slip her Master's attention.

"What is it, Padawan mine, that bothers you so?"

"I'm… not looking forward to what's coming when we get to the Temple," she said. "I've never talked to anyone who'd failed their Trials."

"Whatever happens, the Jedi Temple is still your home. We'll see the Healers first to assess your injuries. The mission report will have to wait until you're well enough to face the Council."

Ashkhen sat in silence for the remainder of the trip. She had absolutely no idea how the Council would react to the failed Trials, the death of another Padawan, and her coming back diminished in so many ways. Sighing, she pulled her hood slightly lower.


End file.
